Back when I was clerking for a court, there was a case where everyone assumed a defendant understood enough English to proceed without an interpreter. It quickly became clear that he did not fully understand what was being said, and the hearing was immediately continued until an interpreter could be present. The court recognized something we often overlook elsewhere: being present is not the same thing as understanding.

The lesson from that case extends beyond the courtroom. Voting—one of the most fundamental rights we have guaranteed by the Constitution—also requires understanding. For many Spanish-speaking voters in Kansas, that means having access to election materials in the language they understand best. Ballots can be confusing even when English is a voter’s first language, often containing legal terminology, technical language, and complex policy questions. Voting is intended to give people a meaningful voice in their government. Yet simply showing up to the ballot does not mean that voice is being fully exercised if a voter does not understand what is written or the decisions they are being asked to make.

To me, that is what this conversation about language access comes down to. What does “access” actually mean? Is it simply the right to participate? The opportunity to engage? The ability to enter a space and be present? That’s how we often think about access. But when fundamental rights are at stake, showing up is only the first step. Without understanding, what looks like access is really just an illusion. Real access means being able to fully understand what is being said or written—not an approximation, not a summary, but the actual meaning. Anything less isn’t access.

For many Spanish-speaking voters, the consequences of that distinction are real. When election materials are not available in a language they fully understand, voters are often left guessing about what a ballot measure means, relying on someone else’s interpretation, or sitting out an election altogether. No voter should have to choose between guessing and staying home. That is not meaningful access. It is a barrier to fully participating in our democracy.

What’s striking is that we already understand this principle in our courts. We do not expect people to guess what a court order means. We do not expect them to rely on a child, friend, or family member to explain legal proceedings. And we do not move forward when it becomes clear that someone cannot fully understand the language being spoken. When important rights are at stake, we recognize that understanding matters. Voting should be no different.

A guess is not access. A partial or casual understanding of English is not access. A paraphrased interpretation of the ballot is not access. Sitting out an election because the process feels inaccessible is not access.

And a right cannot be fully exercised if it cannot be fully understood.